


Come With Me

by Unfeathered



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BDSM, Bondage, Breathplay, Consensual Kink, Dark, Gratuitous Smut, Heavy Angst, Heavy BDSM, Leashes, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Predicament Bondage, Rough Sex, Sexual Violence, Shameless Smut, Smut, Strangulation, Temporary Character Death - Jack Harkness, Twisted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-25
Updated: 2010-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24752722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unfeathered/pseuds/Unfeathered
Summary: John has some fun with Jack's special abilities
Relationships: Jack Harkness/John Hart
Kudos: 28





	Come With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Set shortly before the final scene of _Children of Earth_
> 
> Originally posted [here](https://unfeatheredfics.dreamwidth.org/9890.html) on 25 July 2010

He runs Jack to ground – finally – in a seedy bar in Soho. He's been looking for him for months, ever since that weird business with the 456. Yeah, all right, he doesn't care much about the poor little kiddies of this planet, but not even he could miss all that fuss and commotion. And it was obvious that Jack and his little gang were involved with it, especially since last time he visited their nice little underground lair it wasn't exactly underground any more. And Jack had gone. Even sweet little Gwennie didn't know where he was.

Even in the depths of depression, Jack's apparently still pretty good at covering his trail, and this time John can't even get a signal from his vortex manipulator. Hardly surprising, since Gwen told him it got blown up, along with Jack, when the Hub exploded, but it does make finding Jack a bugger of a task. Luckily, even when he's trying not to be found, Jack's still a pretty memorable bloke and slowly, slowly, John manages to track him down.

And at last, there he is, in a dark corner of the bar, making out with a gorgeous dark-skinned woman. With only a brief pang of jealousy – brief because the bird's time with Jack is over, as far as he's concerned – John strides over and drags her aside.

"Sorry, love, this one's mine," he smirks, and meets Jack's alcohol-glazed eyes with a challenge in his own. "Hello, lover-boy. You're a hard one to find these days."

The bird squawks a bit but buggers off after a moment, and John's attention is all on Jack anyway as Jack gives him a rather dazed but still typically blinding grin. "Worth the chase?" he asks, eyebrows lifted high.

John grins back. "Always."

He gets Jack upstairs, kicks the door shut and slams Jack against it, hands on his collar as he lets out some of the frustration of his long search in kissing Jack. Unlike the last time he saw him, Jack appears only too ready to respond, and that response leaves John breathless with desire and the fucking fantastic feeling of being _wanted_ by Jack.

"Feeling more in the mood for fun this time, eh, Jacky-boy?" he gasps, as Jack's fingers reach for his fly.

"Definitely," Jack murmurs against his lips, working John's zip down and suddenly there are large, warm fingers closing around his cock, which is rock hard and showing its enthusiasm with little twitches and drools.

"Good," John smirks, his own hands slipping beneath Jack's greatcoat and clawing at his shoulders as he bucks happily into Jack's hand. Only for a moment, though, because he doesn't want Jack thinking he's going to get to lead this time. After a moment, he uses his grip on Jack's shoulders to pull him away from the door and swing him round and onto his back on the floor, his own body weight held close so he goes down right on top of Jack. Jack wrestles him for dominance, of course, chuckling deliciously, but John for once has the advantage of not being drunk (or at least, holding his liquor better than Jack) and he flips Jack over onto his front, twisting an arm up behind him and whispering, "I'm in charge this time, all right?"

"Yeah? You and whose army?" Jack pants, struggling beneath him, and John grins tightly and wraps his free arm around that long, beautiful throat and pulls back sharply. Jack's breath catches and he goes still. John can feel his muscles straining beneath him and it's a glorious feeling, having all that beautiful strength and power at his mercy.

"All right, _Captain?_ " he asks again, and Jack lets out a short little bark of laughter and nods, as much as he is able, which isn't much. He looks gorgeous: cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes dark with arousal. He looks, despite the fight – which John suspects was more for old times' sake than because he really wants to resist – completely ready to be dominated.

Which works out nicely, because John's feeling very dominant right now.

"Good boy," he murmurs, and carefully relaxes the elbow around Jack's neck. Jack gasps and lowers his head gratefully, but doesn't move otherwise, and with a grin of triumph John lets go of his arm and lifts off him so he can drag the heavy greatcoat off.

"I'm pretty good at undressing myself, you know," Jack offers with a lopsided grin, but John shakes his head, flipping Jack onto his back again and kneeling at Jack's feet so he can unlace his boots.

"Let me worship you, Jack," he says softly, gazing along the beautiful length of the man.

Jack gives him a sceptical look down the length of his body, but then drops his head back onto the carpet and lets John do what he wants. Thank fuck. John strips him carefully but without wasting time because, bugger, he wants to be inside Jack, wants to feel Jack around him and against him, skin on skin. Once Jack's naked, he quickly shucks off his own clothes – and weapons – and then he's dropping down onto Jack, who's been watching him cockily with his arms folded behind his head. He looks good enough to eat like that, all long, muscular limbs and smooth, golden skin, and John scoots backwards, distracted from his original plan, to kneel astride Jack's legs and lick up his torso, tasting the salt of sweat. A tiny shiver trembles through Jack as the cool air hits the wet skin and John locks his gaze with Jack's as he rocks back again, smirking, and then licks again, tasting different sections of Jack's skin but deliberately ignoring the demands for attention of the gorgeous, hot, thick cock sticking up in front of him.

"John…" Jack groans, not looking so smug now, and John smirks and swipes his tongue all the way up that well-developed chest until he's hovering on all fours above Jack – lips and cocks oh-so-close but not quite touching.

"Yes, lover?" he asked innocently.

Jack lets out a frustrated, wordless noise, and surges upwards to force John into a violent kiss, hands coming round to crush John down onto him. John goes with it for a moment, because fuck, Jack's irresistible, but he really is determined not to let Jack control this. So he grabs Jack's hands and crushes them back onto the floor, lifting up off Jack again, and considers Jack with his head on one side. "You know, I think you need reminding who's in charge here, Captain."

Jack's eyes widen, a pulse beating rapidly in his throat, and John smirks because he's damn sure he's hit on the right on the right approach here. Letting go of one of Jack's wrists, he leans away to tug the belt off Jack's trousers. It's a lovely belt – quality leather that's soft and worn with age. He bets Jack used it on Eye Candy more than once and he pauses a moment to enjoy the image of this belt coming down on that white, muscular arse, before snapping back to the moment and holding the belt stretched between his hands in front of Jack's face. "Head up," he instructs Jack, holding his gaze, and Jack swallows slowly before lifting his head so John can slide the leather beneath it. "Good boy," he purrs, pulling the long end of the belt slowly through the buckle and watching the band of leather gradually tighten. When it reaches the point where it's nestling comfortably round Jack's throat, he leans across to pick out a stiletto blade from his own pile of weapons, humming softly under his breath, and punches a new hole through the leather. Only once the belt is buckled securely, and the end of the leash firmly in his own hand does he look up from his work to Jack's face again. And fuck, but Jack looks amazing. There's a beautiful vulnerability that wasn't there before, and it sends shivers of arousal up and down his spine.

"All right?" he asks softly.

Jack swallows again, Adam's apple bobbing against the leather, and nods. "Yeah," he says, a mere breath of sound, and John's heart nearly breaks at the way Jack's looking up at him, so open and trusting.

With an effort, he shakes off the sappiness and climbs to his feet, pulling lightly on the end of the belt. "On your knees, then, Captain."

He makes sure Jack has to struggle a bit to maintain his balance as he gets up, the pull of the leather belt not really strong enough to use it for leverage. John smirks as he watches Jack settle into position – knees spread, hands linked behind his back – and lets go of the end of the belt so it dangles down Jack's front, lightly brushing his cock. Jack sucks in a breath at the touch, his cock jerking hard.

"Very nice, Captain," John says approvingly, moving away towards the pile of discarded clothing and dragging his own belt from its loops. Smirking, he moves round behind Jack, thoroughly enjoying the instinctive tensing of Jack's muscles as he does so, and gently pulls Jack's hands apart, repositioning them with his wrists crossing each other. They look oddly bare without the familiar wriststrap, and John spares a moment to hate those who blew it up along with its owner before getting on with the job. There's another quick tensing of Jack's muscles as John wraps the belt round his wrists – once, twice – and ties it off, then runs the remaining length up Jack's back and passes it through the makeshift collar, then back down to be buckled at a point where Jack's arms are weighing on it nicely.

Pleased with his work, John stalks round in front of Jack again and cups a hand beneath his chin to lift his face. Jack's eyes are huge, dark pools of longing. "Beautiful," John whispers, breath hissing softly as he wraps his free hand round his cock and guides it towards Jack's mouth.

Jack opens up readily and John's eyes flutter closed as his cock is sucked into that velvety heat. "That's it, good boy," he murmurs warmly, his free hand brushing through Jack's hair a couple of times before tangling his fingers in it to hold Jack still as he thrusts gently in and out. Jack doesn't protest; in fact, he seems to be doing his best to get more of John's cock in his mouth, leaning forward into John's thrusts and slurping greedily around his cock. John shivers at such eagerness and generously gives Jack what he wants, pushing a little deeper into his mouth with every forward stroke until he's no longer just nudging the back of Jack's throat but steadily pushing down it.

Jack's good at this, of course. He was good at it when they were Time Agents together and the years since then – John tries not to think exactly how _many_ years – have only served to hone that talent. Even with the collar round his neck, Jack has no difficulty in taking him down and John gasps as he's swallowed right to the root. He has to blink away stupid tears of emotion as he meets Jack's gaze and sees the hunger in it – the desperation. Jack looks almost as if he _wants_ John to choke him completely.

Hang on. There's something more going on here.

Reluctantly, he pulls slowly out of Jack's mouth, his heart clenching at the little moan of loss Jack makes, and releases his hold on Jack's hair, lifting his chin instead with a gentle hand. "Jack?" he asks, puzzled, head on one side as he studies Jack's frantic face.

Jack shakes his head mutely. " _Please!_ " he begs hoarsely. "Just let me—" and he leans forward to nuzzle at John's cock, muscles working hard in his thighs to maintain his balance. He licks and kisses John's cock and John can't stand firm against someone who wants it that much. His cock twitches and swells even further and with a wry little laugh he lets Jack have it back, lets Jack suck it into his mouth and swallow it down again, watching breathlessly as Jack's throat moves around it. It's incredible to watch, and even more incredible to feel. He surges forward, thrusting hard, _shoving_ his cock into Jack, and fumbles with the buckle on the belt, easing the catch out of it and pulling it tighter. Jack gasps, though it does him no good, face flushing and tears starting in his eyes as he struggles for breath. The spasms of his constricted throat muscles feel absolutely fucking amazing around John's cock.

John locks eyes with Jack, because he needs to be utterly sure that Jack wants this, but what he sees in Jack's eyes makes him nod grimly. And then he lets himself go: plumbing the depths of Jack's throat with one hand in his hair to keep him still and the other pulling on the belt with all his strength. Jack chokes and struggles desperately but that's okay because John knows it's just his body's instinctive reaction, and this is what Jack really wants. And fuck, but the incredible tightness round his cock is something more intense than he's ever felt. He's experienced the physical before, of course – hey, if he's going to kill someone, then why not get an amazing orgasm out of it too? – but he's never done this with a willing participant before. Never had someone fighting his body's natural reactions so hard, and someone so fucking aroused by it all that his cock's pulsing and dripping without having had a single touch.

Time to put that right. He can spare a moment, after all, to make sure Jack comes before he dies.

He can't reach Jack's cock with his hands 'cos they're busy, and Jack's own hands are tightly tied behind him, but John's a resourceful man, and it's not as if Jack's going to need much to tip him over the edge. Pressing in close to Jack, he traps Jack's cock between his own legs. Jack convulses, eyes wide and locking with his again, and John grins breathlessly and shifts further, squeezing and rolling Jack's hot, hard cock between his calves. "Come with me, Jack," he pants.

And that's all it takes. Jack convulses again, much more violently, lungs heaving uselessly for air as his cock pulses between John's calves. Fucking gorgeous reaction. John milks the last of Jack's come out of him and then returns to his former stance, legs spread for leverage as he starts to piston in earnest in and out of Jack's mouth, his fingers tight in Jack's hair, holding him still. Jack's face is dark red now, his muscles straining helplessly, a real desperation in his eyes that starts a glorious tingle at the base of John's spine, spreading warmly through his loins as he feels the first warning prickles of his climax approaching. He shifts again, pulling Jack's head right back and leaning over him, thrusting as deep as he possibly can and wrenching on the belt until he can feel it crushing Jack's throat around his cock, impossibly tight. Jack's still conscious – just – as John starts to spurt thickly down the constricted column of his throat, but by the time the last weak waves of pleasure have faded, Jack's gone. The body before him is limp and as he pulls slowly out it slumps, lifeless, to the floor.

John stares down at it, panting. It's hard to believe he's actually done this. He's fantasised about it, of course, ever since he found out Jack couldn't die, but to actually _do_ it… It's one hell of a trip. Sex and murder: two of his favourite occupations. Except it isn't murder, not really, he reminds himself, as he turns away to grab his shirt to wipe himself down. Jack _wanted_ this. Jack was _desperate_ for this.

He probably ought to have tried to find out why, but that's not really John's way. Not that he actually came here with the intention of fucking Jack to death, either, but once events had taken that turn there was no way he'd have backed away from the chance to try it. So here he is, now, stuck with a rapidly-cooling corpse. A corpse who's still tied up. He probably ought to remedy that before Jack wakes up.

He studies Jack as he eases the two belts loose, wondering how it works, how long it takes, what exactly _happens_. Jack's always been a bit of a mystery to him, no matter how well he purports to know him, but _this_ is something else altogether. It's more than just the nifty parlour trick Jack tries to pass it off as. It's _changed_ him. It's who he is, now.

And now he's shared that with John. John straightens and pulls his jeans on, feeling strangely touched by Jack's generosity.

There's a loud gasp and suddenly Jack's back, eyes wide, instinctively flailing, and gasping for air that's no longer restricted. John watches him with a slight frown, more anxious than he'd realised he was. "All right?" he asks jerkily, sticking his hands in his pockets in attempt to look nonchalant.

He can't fathom the look Jack gives him as he finally stops flailing and instead pushes himself weakly up to sitting. "Yeah," he says dully, and John squints at him, fighting a distinct feeling that he's missing something.

"Well, that's good," he says chirpily, threading his belt back through the loops on his jeans, and he leers, suddenly. "Looked like you needed that."

Jack tilts his head to one side, a self-deprecating, humourless smile playing on his lips. "I guess you could say that."

"An' I think you could do with some more," John says cheerfully. He pauses a moment, and then goes for it. "Got a Dalusian freighter lined up for transport in a week's time. I'm getting off this sodding planet. Had enough of the blinking 21st century."

He gives Jack a hopeful look, eyebrows raised high and his breath held as he asks the ultimate question. "Come with me?"


End file.
